Two Mary Sues in a Fanfiction
by the-buddy-hollyspirit
Summary: Two Mary Sues in a Poorly Written, Fourth-Wall Breaking, Lemony-Narrarated, Self-Inserting Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction Warning: contains one or more of the following; Crude humor, bad spelling, and/or poor character development.


Two Mary-Sues in a Fanfiction

Anastasia Elizabeth Christina Philpia and Seraphina Gwendolyn Octavia Evangeline were best friends. Anastasia Elizabeth Christina Philpia, we'll call her Anastasia, had waist-length, shimmery, red hair. People asked her if it was a bit odd to have shimmery hair, but she just stared at them with her large, blue eyes, surrounded by Dead-of-Night (that's a mascara, not a color) eyelashes, set against her snow white skin. Then their eyes went downwards, and they asked if it was a bit odd to have lips as red and shimmery as your hair.

Seraphina Gwendolyn Octavia Evangeline, who we'll call Evangeline, had skin the color as a Midas plum. Her lips were not as full as Anastasia's, but that was a good thing because otherwise she'd look like a fish, not perfect. Her lips were dark pink, like bruised pink rose petals, and she had large brown eyes. She wore Dead-of-Night mascara, too.

Evangeline and Anastasia had perfect bodies (meaning they looked exactly the same) and perfect clothes (let's not waste a paragraph on it, shall we?). Evangeline smelled like roses and rain water and sweet almonds while Anastasia smelled like ink and brand-new books and just-cut grass. It clashed.

One day, they went back in time. They knew, as Mary Sues, that it was their time to time travel and find a good-looking bloke who would be enchanted by their large eyes, shimmery hair, and Dead-of-Night mascara.

"It's the late Victorian era, to be exact," said Evangeline when they arrived.

"Thanks!" Cooed Anastasia. She already knew, because she was perfect.

"I hope everyone appreciates how my dark blue, French silk gown accents my brown eyes," said Evangeline. "The bustle has small, silk rosettes on it, and everything is edged with black lace. If they chance to see my boots, which will certainly be less likely than them seeing how beautiful my dark blue, French silk and black lace hat rests on my shimmery black pomadour, they will notice the delicate black pearl buttons."

"Ooh, I hope they enjoy my silk gown, the fabric imported from China, in a most delicate green with a lovely pattern of bamboo on it as well!" Squeeled Anastasia. "If you'll notice, above my shimmery red pompadour is a hat of matching fabric, with white ostrich feathers and a pretty dead animal on top! And my shoes, sweet little dancing slippers, match the gown as well!"

The girls giggled and linked arms, skipping down the street. A policeman, bearing a large club, blocked their path.

"'Old it rowt there!" 'e demanded. "'Ow's it thet tew prowper yeng lehdies cun skeep en a corset 'n' bustle?"

"Ooh! The crudeness of it all, Evangeline! I think I shall faint!"

"Oh, not now, Anastasia! For I feel a shortage of breath coming on at this ungentlemanly questioning!"

The two women toppled backwards, making the policeman rather red in the face and crushing two men who had been walking behind them, minding their own business.

"What the blazes _was_ that?" Snapped the one Evangeline was sprawled across.

"A lady," she murmured, attempting to stroke his stubble-covered cheek while still squishing him.

"I already have a lady," gasped the second, as he tried to roll the bright eyed and determined Anastasia off of him, so he could breathe.

"Would you _please_ let go of my overcoat?" He begged. He was dapper and blonde with a small, neat mustache.

Anastasia, being a Mary Sue, calmly released his coat, starring up at him with cow eyes from the ground. "Would you help me up, please?" She asked softly.

The man helped her up, but it was because he was a gentleman, not because he was attracted to her shimmery hair, which was coming undone from its pompadour in a most alluring way.

Evangeline scrambled off of her new victim and love interest and attempted to help him up. _He looks like he digs independent girls_, she thought.

_Not digs!_ Reprimanded Anastasia. _We're in the 19th century now. I'd dare say he'd fancy a woman like you. _Mary Sues have mental connections.

The handsome, dark haired man on the pavement ignored Evangeline's gloved hand and was instead practically lifted off of the pavement, in the most romantic way possible for two men in late Victorian England who did not want to be arrested for suspected homosexuality, by the dapper man.

_I thought he'd dare say fancy a woman like me!_ Wailed Evangeline mentally.

_Sorry, _thought Anastasia apologetically. _I may be perfect, but I'm not always right. _

The dapper fellow righted his partner and begain straightening and dusting his clothing.

"I can dust myself of, Watson," said the dark haired man, pulling away slightly, but not too much, in a manner that said Watson may put his hands where even he wishes.

"But you wouldn't," replied Watson, finishing and proceeding to dust himself off.

_I dare say my love fancies Watson!_ Cried Evangeline at the same time Anastasia cried, _I dare say my dear Watson fancies the ugly one!_

They were so distraught that Watson's polite farewell and 'the ugly one's' complete ignorance of them barely registered. In a few minutes, though, when they came back to their senses and followed them. The men were heading to a graveyard, and once they arrived they begain examining a large broken slab of stone. The girls both considered it rather dull-looking, so went to do some philanthropic work by giving a shivering elderly gentleman in a corner of the graveyard rather busty hugs. He recovered immediatly, and said they reminded him of his granddaughters.

Suddenly, the Mary Sues felt a huge jerk and they were twirled and tossed every which way in history, just to see a pretty lady in a blue jacket and red dress leaving a building.

She wandered down alleyways; ones where no decent woman should be. But then again, she didn't seem like all that decent of a woman, and that, quite frankly, turned Anastasia on.

The beautiful woman slipped into an alley where dirty old man, in more ways than one, beckoned her.

He offered her flowers, saying he'd cut a deal for her, on account of those rosy cheeks, while his assistant, another filthy mongrel, crept up behind her and pressed a knife to her throat.

"Got anything for me, sweetheart?"

"We do!" Shouted the Mary Sues, simultaneously.

Irene Adler quickly robbed her antagonists, using the classic groin attack, before running from the oncoming Mary Sues. The filthy old frauds didn't seem to enjoy the embraces quite as much as the elderly man in the graveyard, but they found that the girls were similair to their granddaughters, too.

Time jerked conviently once more when the author couldn't remember the movie plot any more, and the Mary Sues were standing in an alleyway. It blew up. Everyone was harmed, save the Mary Sues, who were beginning to think that they hadn't traveled in time but into a movie instead, which is also a popular setting for poorly-written self-insert fanfictions. They figured Quentin Tarantino had something to do with it. Great costumes, sex, and an explosion, none in that order.

Another anachronistic time whirl, and they were floating through the galaxy, past a blue box of unusual proportions from the back, where it stuck out like a Star Wars spaceship trying to be inconspicous.

They landed on both buttocks, on brocade chairs infront of a dark wooden table at a restaurant.

Watson and 'the ugly one' both looked uncomfortable. Watson cleared his throat and turned to Evangeline.

"I wouldn't reccomend Holmes. He has a distinctive lack of personal hygiene."

"Oh, that's alright! Everything smells good around me!" The Mary Sue smiled perkily at the befundled man.

Holmes glared at Anastasia and told her to 'keep the blood (this word was mumbled) away from Watson, he didn't need another (this word was also mumbled, but sounded a great deal like 'damned') woman after him'.

Anastasia and Evangeline straightened their hats and sighed, and shiftedtheir weight.

"Why weren't we told that the two men we were going after were in love with each other?"

"What?" Said Watson and Holmes as Anastasia replied, "That's an awful lot of 'were's in that sentance, even for someone who's perfect."

"W-we aren't in love," Watson attempted to explain to the girl's confused looks. "We're just good friends."

The girl's expressions cleared and they nodded slightly, mouths hanging a fraction of a centimeter (two millimeters) open.

"Well, we should go." Anastasia and Evangeline scooped up their skirts and flounced out, synchronized, on their last shred of dignity.

Watson turned back to his entree, not noticing the way Holmes' eyes fell on him, nor noticing his soft 'Just good friends'.

Outside the golden lights and impressive masonry of the resturaunt, Anastasia and Evangeline turned to each other.

They nodded to each other, once, synchronized.

Then they faded away.

Where did they go?

In the end, Evangeline stayed and fell in love with Lord Coward, and they had fun with that, while Anastasia went even further back in time, where, due to her unusual clothing, great smell, and the fact that she was prettier than every woman in town, she was burned as a witch, the golden and blood red flames twisting around her silken dress like a lion's mane blown in the wind. It was beautiful.


End file.
